


from the land that i left

by AquaQuadrant



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure, Tangled: The Series (Cartoon)
Genre: (so varian never tried to kill cass and ari and raps never used the black rocks), (varian managed to free quirin from the amber using rapunzel's hair but quirin was already dead rip), Angst, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Execution Mention, Injury, Not A Happy Ending, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, drinking mention, exiled!varian au, i'll be uploading them over the next few days and updating the tags as i go, post SOTSD, rapunzel eugene and cass make appearances but they aren't huge, self-depreciation, there'll be a few minor ocs as well, violence mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-07 08:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17362892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaQuadrant/pseuds/AquaQuadrant
Summary: Varian's success is this: he manages to free Quirin from the amber using Rapunzel's hair. His failure? Quirin's already dead, long suffocated inside his tomb. Orphaned, defeated, and consumed with grief, Varian is exiled from Corona and finds that his real hardship has only just begun, and sometimes the only solace you can find is alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey there readers! This is actually a pretty old piece of work, except for the most recent two chapters. This au was inspired by Ghostar's art and originally written on Tumblr. I always planned to bring them over here once I finished it, but the last chapter took me... quite a while. But it's up on my Tumblr right now, as are all the other chapters, art, and asks if you'd like to take a look!
> 
> http://www.aquaquadrant.tumblr.com/tagged/exiled!varian%20au
> 
> I'm going to try and get all the chapters up here in a timely manner, over the next few days. Please don't be shy about leaving comments, even if you've already read them all on Tumblr! I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> (Title from Way Out There by Lord Huron) - Aqua

Chapter One

Eugene frowned at the cabin in front of them.

The wood was old and rotted, and the windows were boarded up. Everything seemed dark, quiet, and still, which was entirely unlike the Varian he’d come to know.

“You sure this is the place?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow at Cassandra.

“Do you see any other solitary cabins out here?” she countered, voice edged with irritation. “That guy at the tavern said it was deep in the forest, and here we are.”

“Yeah, I guess so, it just feels weird,” Eugene mumbled, folding his arms.

The man they’d talked to at the tavern had been glad to point them in the right direction, but there was something off. Eugene couldn’t forget the dark glint in his eye when they’d told him who they were looking for.

_“That freak?” He’d snorted, taking another swig of his drink. “Yeah, I know of ‘em. Kept poking his nose around town a few months back, ‘till me and some guys ran him out. Keeps to himself now, in a cabin deep in the woods. Which is perfectly fine by us.” At this point, he sat forward in his seat, pointing a thick finger at them. “Word to the wise; be careful with that one. Might be better for everyone if he just stays lost.”_

It was a miracle they’d gotten out of there without starting a fight. The whole ordeal had left Eugene horribly unnerved, and he could tell even Cassandra was affected (as much as a heartless ice-woman could be, anyways).

Cassandra huffed a sigh. “Well, I guess we won’t know for sure unless we try it. Come on,” she waved her arm at him and walked up to the door.

Despite the bad feeling in his gut, Eugene followed after her. He’d promised Rapunzel they’d do everything they could to find Varian, and he wasn’t going to quit now after spending so long searching with Cassandra.

“Hello? Varian?” Cassandra rapped on the door. “You in there?”

There was nothing but silence from within, the trees around them groaning slightly from the wind.

Eugene exchanged a glance with Cassandra before reaching for the door handle. “Hello,” he called, nudging the door open. “Varian, are you in here? We just want to-”

“Get back! Go away!”

There was a glint of metal, and Eugene’s eyes, struggling to adjust to the darkness of the cabin, finally registered the nocked arrow pointed at his face.

Varian looked awful. His clothes were in tatters, patched and stained and frayed, and his hair was a wiry, unkept mess. His face was pale and hollowed out, like he’d been missing meals. Most concerning were his eyes; lined with dark circles, and filled with the sheer, wild terror of a hunted animal.

“Woah, woah, easy!” Eugene held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Varian, it’s us. Don’t you remember me? Your old pal, Flynn Rider?”

Recognition flashed in Varian’s eyes, but he didn’t lower his bow. “What do you want?” he asked tersely.

Cassandra gave Eugene a look before taking a hesitant step forward. “It’s okay, Varian, we just want to-”

_**THUNK.** _

An arrow flew past Cassandra’s ear, striking the wood behind her. She froze immediately, eyes wide with alarm.

“That’s close enough,” Varian said, his voice shaking.

Eugene put a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder, silently telling her to stand down. This situation would have to be handled carefully.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Eugene said soothingly. “We just want to talk. Rapunzel sent us to check on you.”

“Rapunzel?” The bow dipped slightly. A flurry of emotions clashed on Varian’s face, primarily pain and regret. “… why?” he asked hoarsely.

“Because she’s worried about you, Varian.” Eugene’s voice was gentle. “You know she didn’t agree with her father’s decision. She just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

Varian was quiet for a moment, and Eugene could sense him struggling. The way things had ended left a lot of hurt for everyone involved, raw emotions that hadn’t been given a chance to be dealt with before Varian was exiled. And it had all happened so quickly, Eugene wasn’t even sure how Varian felt about Rapunzel; he’d gone from a desperate kid to a cold-hearted revenge-seeker and back again in the blink of an eye. He’d seemed remorseful at the trial, but he’d also proven himself capable of hiding his real intentions.

Finally, Varian lowered his bow, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion.

“Okay,” he said, his voice small and broken. “Let’s talk.”

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Please don't start any discourse in the comments, as they won't be replied to. Thanks for reading, please let me know if you enjoyed it! - Aqua


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Character death, mentions of drinking, mentions of violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter and the next two were actually part of one one-shot on Tumblr, but I decided to split them up when I post them here to have more consistent chapter lengths. Hope you enjoy, please comment if you do! 
> 
> Also, we're jumping back in time to a few months before Chapter One! - Aqua

Chapter Two

Varian shifted on his cot.

Pale, morning light filtered through the cell’s tiny barred window, barely enough to cut through the shadowy darkness. His hands were curled close to his chest, small and cold and vulnerable without his gloves.

He didn’t feel like himself. He didn’t feel like anything.

Varian hadn’t slept last night. Despite the body-numbing exhaustion that had sunken into his bones and the way his eyes burned, he couldn’t seem to slip into blissful unconsciousness. Memories came to his mind unbidden, salt in an open wound. He couldn’t stop seeing it, seeing _him,_ over and over again- his brain was desperately trying to make sense of it all, to rationalize it somehow, and so he was forced to relive it.

_**CRASH.** _

_The amber shattered with a loud crack, spraying shards in every direction. A few landed dangerously close to him, but Varian didn’t care because it had **worked;** his father lay in a heap of the rubble, free at last from his prison._

_“It- it worked!” Varian scrambled off the drill, nearly tripping as he rushed to his father’s side. Nothing else mattered now, not the battle raging outside, not the king or the queen or even Rapunzel- he’d finally done it! “Dad! Dad, a- are you okay?”_

_He appeared to be unconscious, a few chunks of amber still stuck to his skin and clothes. Varian struggled to roll him onto his back, tugging on his arm. “Dad, wake up! It’s me, it’s Varian, I did it! I- I actually did it, I saved you, just like I promised-”_

_Varian’s voice abruptly stopped working, having finally turned his dad over. His face was pale and slack, and it was then that Varian noticed he wasn’t breathing._

_“Dad…? No. No, come on, Dad, wake up, **please.”** Varian pressed his ear to his father’s chest, listening desperately for a heartbeat._

_He didn’t find one._

_Varian stared, uncomprehending. Everything around him faded to white noise, a piercing ringing in his ears. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be true. This had to be a dream, a nightmare- this couldn’t be real!_

_Rapunzel’s tentative voice came from somewhere behind him. “Varian…?”_

_“Dad…” Varian cupped his father’s face in his hands, still and stiff and cold. Tears blurred his vision. “I was too late.”_

Biting back a sob, Varian curled in on himself, his whole body trembling.

It had all happened so fast. The realization had only just hit him when the guards had arrived, breaking through the door. There was a scrape along his left cheekbone from being tackled to the ground, but he hadn’t even felt it at the time. The only thing running through his mind had been that his dad was _gone._

_“No!” Varian struggled against the weight on top of him, trapping him, keeping him from his dad. **“Dad!”**_

_It took four guards to wrestle a pair of cuffs around his wrists and drag him away, a screaming, hysterical mess. He was beyond reason, beyond thought, barely aware of his surroundings until he was shoved into the back of a wagon, the door slamming shut with awful finality._

_With an anguished cry, Varian threw himself against the door, over and over again until his body gave out on him, legs buckling, and fell to his knees. His muscles cried out in pain, but it was nothing compared to the agony in his chest. His heart felt like it had been torn apart, pieces of him left to die and rot alongside his father’s corpse._

_“No,” he sobbed. “Dad… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”_

Varian’s breathing hitched. He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

The worst part of it was that Dad had been dead the whole time, suffocating as soon as the amber closed over him. Even if Rapunzel had come to help Varian at the very start, it still would have been too late. His dad was doomed from the moment that amber started encasing him. Varian had no one else to blame but himself.

It was all his fault.

Varian squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to stop tears from escaping. A strangled sound tore itself from his throat.

He’d never been more alone in all his life. Even Ruddiger was gone; the raccoon had returned to him after his transformation, but in his haste to free his father, Varian had lost track of him. The absence hurt more than he’d expected, just another injury to add on top of everything else.

It was too much. He was just one person- how could he be expected to deal with this much pain? How could _anyone?_ The weight of it was going to crush him, he could _feel_ it, and he wanted nothing more than to stop existing. To just vanish, to disappear, to be nothing.

“Hey, kid. You cryin’?”

The voice came unexpectedly from the cell across from him. Varian startled, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He wiped at his face, self-conscious, even though he knew the other prisoner couldn’t possibly see him in the dark.

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “Who are you?”

“No one important.” It was an old man’s voice, rough and weathered with age. “Now I don’t mean to pry, but… it don’t seem right for someone your age to be here.”

Varian tucked his knees to his chest. “Well, I deserve it,” he muttered, glancing away.

The man chose not to comment on that. “I saw ‘em bring you in,” he said, conversationally. “Seemed like an awful lot’a guards for one young boy.” The question in his voice was plain, and Varian swallowed the lump in his throat.

“They… think I’m dangerous. _I’m_ dangerous,” he corrected, thinking about all the destruction he’d caused. Destruction he’d tried so hard to justify, that turned out to be all for naught. It left him feeling nauseous.

“Well, guess ya’ can’t judge a book by it’s cover.” It was hard to tell whether the man believed him or not. “What happened?”

“My father is dead, and it’s my fault.” Varian forced the words out. “I did… so many horrible things to try and save him, but in the end it was all for nothing. I was too late.”

The man hummed noncommittally. “All your fault, eh? What, you weren’t _trying_ to kill him, were you?” 

_“No,_ but what does it matter?” Frustration edged Varian’s voice, and he raked his hands through his hair. “I still did it, didn’t I? He’s just as dead as he’d be if I’d meant to do it. Does it really matter that I _didn’t?”_

“S’pose that depends on who you ask. Me? I’m servin’ fifteen years for murder. Killed a stranger in a drunken brawl.” There was a weary sigh. “My only consolation is that he was just like me; a wanderin’ vagabond with nothin’ better to do than spend his days workin’ so he could spend his coin at the tavern. He didn’t have anyone to leave behind, so I didn’t orphan or widow no one.”

_'So where does that leave me,'_ Varian wondered, _'who orphaned myself?'_

“… why are you telling me this?” he asked.

“Heh. Why, indeed…” There was a pause, and when he spoke again, the humor had faded. “I’m an old man. Might just drop dead before my time’s served. Truth is, I didn’t walk into the bar that night with the intent to kill someone, but I knew full well what might happen. I knew I had a problem with drinking, and that I was prone to losin’ my temper when I did, but I didn’t think enough or I didn’t care enough about it to make a better choice. And it was a choice, to get drunk that night. So what I did could hardly be called a _mistake.”_

There was a pause, and Varian was suddenly struck with the notion that the man was, inexplicably, staring him right in the eye.

“You’re young. You made a mistake, as we’re all bound to, but instead of gettin’ to learn and grow from it, it’s a mistake so big and horrible it feels like you’ll never recover from it. But just know this.” His voice took on an edge, hard with conviction. “Your sin? It doesn’t define you. And I would know, ‘cause mine does.”

Some unidentifiable emotion swelled inside Varian. His mind was spinning with conflicting thoughts. A part of him so badly wanted to accept what the man was saying, to allow himself forgiveness, while another part of him wanted to scream, to tell the man that he didn’t understand and that he was _wrong-_ but before Varian could form a response, the door to the dungeon opened with a groan.

A ray of light flooded the hallway, several guards silhouetted in the door frame. Their boots thundered against the stone floor as they made their way down the cells. Varian was filled with certainty; they were here for him.

Across from him, the man shifted in his cell.

“Listen to me, boy,” he said urgently. In the scarce light, Varian could make out a sunken, wrinkled face, and eyes that burned with intensity. “No matter what happens to ya’, don’t _ever_ let ‘em take away who you are.”

The guards had almost reached him. Varian wished he could say something to reassure the old man, so he could comfort himself in his final years with the knowledge that he’d done some good, made a difference in someone’s life when they’d needed it the most.

But that just wasn’t the way it was. Varian managed a small, broken smile.

“There’s nothing left of me for them to take.”

His cell door swung open, and Varian stood. Obediently, he held his hands out to receive the shackles, his head bowed. He let himself be led out of the dungeon, and he didn’t look back.

It didn’t matter. The prisoner they were leading was just an empty shell.

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of execution, self-depreciation

Chapter Three

The throne room was bright.

Sparkling marble, polished gold, high windows.

Varian kept his gaze lowered, but he caught glimpses of it out of the corners of his eyes. It must’ve been a private trial; there weren’t many people present, save for the countless guards. Cassandra- not Cass or Cassie- was there, and so was Eugene- not Flynn Rider. He could feel them watching him as he passed, escorted by a guard on each arm.

The thought of his former friends might’ve been painful, but ultimately, they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. The thought was a dull hammer at the back of his skull.

The guards jerked him to an abrupt stop before releasing him, taking a couple steps back. Varian didn’t need to look up to know who he stood before. Seated in their thrones was the royal family- the one he’d almost destroyed, blinded by his grief and misguided desire for revenge.

When he’d threatened Queen Arianna with the same fate as his father, he hadn’t known at the time that it would result in death. He’d thought that, should his efforts once again prove futile, the remaining two royals would feel a bit more motivated to help him find a solution if someone _they_ loved was entombed as well. 

But one of his startling realizations as of late was that, had the queen not acted quickly enough to free herself, she would be dead. He could have killed the queen.

Standing in front of them now, his eyes burning as he stared at the floor, he could only imagine what they must think of him. 

“Varian of Old Corona.” King Frederic’s voice betrayed nothing.

Absently, Varian knew it might be considered disrespectful to not look the king in the eyes when being spoken to, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You stand accused of trespassing on royal grounds, malicious destruction of property, capital theft, assault, treason, and kidnapping of the highest degree. What do you have to say in your defense?”

Varian wondered at the question. A formality, to be sure. There couldn’t be any possible defense for the crimes he’d committed.

“… nothing, sir.”

There was a pause before the king’s next words. “Your most serious crime is enough to warrant execution,” he said. 

Execution.

The part of his brain concerned with self-preservation shrieked at the word, but Varian mercilessly snuffed it out. It was nothing more than animal instinct, involuntary chemical reactions trying to convince him his life was worth defending. Once the split-second of panic let up, and he could breathe again, he found that everything he’d expected to feel wasn’t there. Fear, sorrow, regret- he felt none of it.

Just… resignation. And relief.

His dad was a corpse in the ground, and Varian couldn’t live with himself knowing he was the one who put him there. It was a sort of mercy, he thought, to be released from this pain. Maybe a mercy he didn’t deserve, but he was grateful for it anyways.

He was wondering whether he was supposed to respond- the only words coming to mind were _thank you_ and he figured that was hardly appropriate- when the king spoke again.

“But I am not so cruel as to judge without reason. The victims of your crimes have forgiven you, and spoken in your defense. In light of the unfortunate circumstances of the situation, I have chosen to show mercy.”

Varian’s head snapped up, meeting the king’s eyes for the first time. Beneath the stony composure, he saw none of the hatred or disdain he was surely due, but _pity._

“You are hereby sentenced to exile,” King Frederic said. “From this moment forth, you are forbidden to set foot within the walls of the Kingdom of Corona, for as long as you shall live. So I have decreed it, so it shall be. You are dismissed.”

The guards who’d escorted him stepped forward, grabbing him by the arms to lead him away. Varian’s legs didn’t seem to want to work, his mind reeling from the king’s words.

“Wait!” he cried out. “Please, sir, I- I don’t understand.”

King Frederic frowned, waving the guards off. “By what do you mean?” he asked.

“I…” Varian licked his lips. “Why would you spare me? I- I attacked the palace, I set an automaton army on your guards, I kidnapped the queen and threatened your family and I killed my own _father._ After _everything_ I’ve done, I should be put to death. I deserve it, don’t I?” he asked, almost desperately. “I deserve to die.”

A shocked silence followed his words. King Frederic stared at him, seemingly at a loss.

“Varian…” Rapunzel’s voice took everyone by surprise, the princess rising from her seat. “What happened to your dad was an _accident,_ you didn’t-”

_“Rapunzel.”_ King Frederic gave her a warning look.

Biting her lip, Rapunzel backed down, settling once again in her throne. Because Rapunzel, Varian noted bitterly, actually had the sense to listen to _her_ father, unlike him.

King Frederic turned back to him, knitting his brows together. “You would argue for your own execution? But _why?”_

“Because it’s not fair that _I’m_ here and he _isn’t._ My dad-” Varian’s voice broke. His eyes stung with tears, and he blinked them away angrily. He was not some pathetic, sobbing child to be pitied, he was a _killer._ “My dad would be alive if it wasn’t for me,” he spat. “Why should _I_ get to live?”

King Frederic regarded him, something soft and genuine in his expression that made Varian want to claw his own eyes out because he didn’t _deserve_ it.

“You have already suffered a great loss,” the king said. “A ruler must make decisions for the good of his people, but must not allow himself to become needlessly cruel. You are young, and you acted not with the intent to harm, but to save someone you love. If ever there was a time and a place for mercy, it is this.”

Varian stopped breathing, realization sinking into him like cold, hooked claws.

The king was wrong. This wasn’t a mercy, it was the cruelest punishment Varian could think of; to force him to live with the weight of his mistakes. To live in a world without his dad, and with the knowledge that it was entirely his fault.

Varian felt like his heart was being ripped in half all over again. _“Please,”_ he gasped out, tears spilling unbidden down his cheeks. “Please don’t do this, I can’t-”

“Take him away.” King Frederic’s voice was final.

_“No!”_ For the first time since his arrest, Varian fought against the guards as they pulled him away. This was a mistake, he had to make the king _understand._ “It isn’t fair! I should’ve been the one to die, not him! It should’ve been me! _Please!”_

The tall doors closed behind them with a deafening clang, and his trial was over.

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Suicidal thoughts

Chapter Four

It was a long ride to the edge of the kingdom.

Varian leaned against the wall of the wagon he’d been unceremoniously thrown into, a few hours prior. The cuffs around his wrists rattled with the vibrations of wheels rolling over cobblestone. It was a sturdy wagon with wooden walls, not the open-faced bars of a typical prison transport.

He didn’t know how to feel about that. Was the king trying to do him a favor, granting him the kindness of privacy? Maybe he had other motives for keeping Varian hidden; he was possibly the most hated person in Corona at the moment, and parading him through town for everyone to see might just cause a riot.

Either way, the dark and the quiet helped; he’d given himself a headache from crying. And if he was being honest, it was nice to be away from prying eyes. Varian might even call it peaceful, if he wasn’t completely falling apart inside.

King Frederic’s words still echoed in his mind. Mercy… what a joke. Everything Varian had done had been to save his dad, and now that he was gone… what was the point of living?

Idly, Varian toyed with the idea of killing himself. Even handcuffed, he could probably tie a decent noose with his shirt, hang it from the roof of the wagon… the guards wouldn’t even know until it was too late.

Ultimately, it didn’t sit with him. What right did he have to run away from the punishment the king had ordered? If this was the repentance he must pay, then he owed it to his dad to suffer it diligently.

He could try, at least. The pain might actually kill him first.

More time passed, how long he wasn’t sure, before the wagon jolted to a stop. He could hear voices, footsteps- the door opened with a creak, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden light.

“Come on, kid, let’s go.” A hand grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

Varian stumbled out of the wagon, squinting up at the guards. He didn’t recognize them, but the one holding him had a cut on his face that probably meant he’d been injured in one of Varian’s attacks.

The second guard drew a key from his belt and unlocked the shackles around Varian’s wrists, and the first one released his arm, the pressure from his grip likely to have left a bruise.

“Here.” He dropped a cloth sack at Varian’s feet before stomping away, back to the front of the wagon.

Rubbing his arm, Varian blinked at it in confusion. Uncertain, he reached for it, watching the other guard carefully, and undid the string tying it shut. His breath caught when he got it open; inside were all the things they’d taken from him upon his arrest.

He pulled his gloves on first, the familiar weight of worn leather helping to ground him. There were his goggles, and his coat, which he slipped on quickly.

Next was his travel satchel. All his alchemy ingredients were gone, which hardly surprised him, but everything else had been left untouched; a couple tools, some treats for Ruddiger, a small pouch holding his few coins, and an assortment of scrap materials. What did throw him off was the addition of some bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth; apparently, someone had seen it fit to give him a day’s worth of food.

Yet another courtesy he wasn’t owed.

Pushing the thought away for the moment, Varian slung the satchel across his shoulder. The last thing in the bag was his apron.

He stared at it. Abrupt and staggering hatred ignited within him, twisting a burning knot in his chest. What good had alchemy ever done him? It was _because_ of his alchemy that Dad was trapped in that amber the first place; to take it up again would be an insult to his memory.

Making up his mind, Varian set the bag down, his apron still inside. This was a part of him he’d be happy to leave behind.

“This, too.”

The first guard’s voice startled him, having returned with a familiar looking staff in hand.

Varian took it from him gingerly. He hadn’t expected to get it back, since it could technically be considered a weapon. Despite everything, the chemicals in the vials were still glowing, a familiar comfort as much as they were a bitter reminder of his failures. He almost considered leaving it behind as well, but the practicality in him won out- it would be his only light source and means of self-defense.

Apparently satisfied, the first guard turned on his heel and headed back to the front of the wagon. The second guard cleared his throat, taking a step forward.

“By royal decree of His Majesty, the King, you are forever banished from Corona, and are forbidden to set foot within the kingdom walls. Failure to comply may result in imprisonment or death. Do you understand and agree to abide by these terms, so long as you shall live?”

Managing a small nod, Varian clutched the staff, feeling lost. Hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him, like water lapping at his chin as he struggled to stay above the surface.

The guard hesitated, his gaze shifting to the front of the wagon before flicking back to Varian. “Listen…” he said, his voice softer. “If you follow the road, you’ll find a small town. I’m sure there’s plenty of folks there who’d be willing to take in a trade apprentice, at the very least you’d get food and board out of it. Might want to get going now, if you want to reach it before sundown,” he added, not unkindly.

Varian glanced down the road, his throat closing up. What could possibly be there for him? What was he supposed to do, just forget everything that had happened, everything he’d done, and play at having a normal life? To try and make something of himself? He didn’t think he could- he’d forfeited that right long ago.

But he didn’t voice these thoughts. The guard was just trying to be helpful, showing compassion to someone worth less than the dirt on his boots. It was admirable, and Varian hadn’t completely forgotten his manners.

“Thank you, sir,” he said hoarsely.

Pulling his hood up, he turned away and faced the road, the uncertainty, that laid before him. Behind him was home, the memory of his dad, everything and everyone he’d ever known…

And ahead? Only time would tell.

Varian started walking.

~*~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of drinking

Chapter Five

The sun was setting.

With it went the warmth of the day, shadows eating up all the light. The buildings in front of Varian had a sinister look to them now, adding to the anxiety already building in his chest. All throughout the day, he’d debated his coming here. He knew nothing about this town, the people…

But he had nowhere else to go. True to the guard’s word, there had been nothing else along the road leading away from the kingdom. Just wilderness. He’d had a lot of time, during his trek, to think about his way forward from here; where he should go, and what he should do when he got there. The idea of just… settling in a town, finding work, starting over… it made him nauseous. But ultimately it had boiled down to one point.

Why not?

He’d been judged worthy of living, for reasons that were beyond him, and cast out from the only place he’d ever known. He might as well follow the guard’s suggestion. This seemed as good a place as any, and he still had enough sense to know that traveling in unfamiliar land at night should be avoided whenever possible.

Which was why Varian forced his feet forward, into town. There was a large building in the center of the square, a wooden sign declaring them open. He came to a stop right in front of it, hesitating.

Behind the door, he could hear the muffled clamor of voices. Warm light flooded out from beneath, flickering with shadows. Despite himself, Varian’s heartbeat quickened. Human interaction. Right. He could do that. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the handle and pulled.

Varian stepped inside. The noise automatically increased tenfold. Everywhere he looked, people laughed and talked loudly and drank, the musty smell of mead hanging in the air. He realized, absently, that this was a tavern, not an inn (as if he had enough coin for a room, anyways).

A few people glanced in his direction, but most were too drunk to notice or care. Varian kept his head down and walked to the bar, leaning his staff against the counter and climbing up on a stool too tall for him.

A portly man in an apron sidled over, raising a pair of thick eyebrows at him.

“Well, hello there!” he greeted Varian. “I’m afraid there’s not much on the menu for you, my boy.” The corners of his bushy mustache turned up in a smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Work.” Varian winced at the harshness of his voice. “I’m, uh, looking for work. Sir.”

The barkeep gave him a curious look. “Well, I’m not hiring at the moment, but I know a guy who was looking to take on some extra help. Hey, Jon!” he called towards a round table in the corner of the room, where a couple men were engaged in conversation. “Jon!”

A redheaded man with a short beard glanced over, raising a hand in acknowledgement. After a parting word to his companion, he made his way to them, sidestepping oblivious revelers in his path.

“I think I’ve found someone who can help you out,” the barkeep said, patting the man on the shoulder. He nodded at Varian before excusing himself to deal with another customer.

The man turned to Varian, sliding onto the stool next to him. “That so? Well, hey there, I’m Jonathan.” He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties, muscular and broad-shouldered. The hand he held out expectantly was thickly calloused. “What’s your name, son?”

Varian just barely stopped himself from flinching at the word. “… Varian,” he said, shaking Jonathan’s hand hesitantly.

“Varian.” Jonathan took in his appearance, lifting an eyebrow. “From out of town, are you? What brings you here?”

“I’m trying to find work, sir.” It was an obvious deflection; Varian couldn’t exactly get into the details of his situation. 

Thankfully, Jonathan let it pass. “So I hear,” he said kindly. “Well, I’m a carpenter by trade. Own a shop just down the marketplace. But my wife, Alice, is pregnant with our second, and I don’t want her working too hard. Truth be told, we could use some help picking up the slack, around the house and in the shop. Sound like something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes, sir.” Varian kept his eyes just shy of the Jonathan’s gaze. The thought of looking him straight in the eye didn’t sit right.

“Great! When can you start?” Jonathan asked.

“Right away, sir,” Varian said. Idly, he realized that if Jonathan wasn’t ready for him yet, he’d be spending the night on the street. Or in the outlying forest. Either way, not good prospects.

“Fantastic.” Jonathan stood, and Varian hastened to follow suit. “We’ll get you settled in tonight; you can meet the girls, see where you’ll be staying, and I’ll take you by the shop first thing tomorrow morning.”

Varian nodded, grabbing his staff and following Jonathan out of the tavern. Well, that’d been a fortunate stroke of luck. Now, he just had to make sure he didn’t mess it up.

The streets were a hair darker than before, but not empty anymore as fellow tavern patrons headed home for the evening. Jonathan and Varian took a path away from the main square, until the road turned to dirt and the buildings became more homely. The one Jonathan stopped in front of was a modest two-story, the wooden foundations sturdy and plain.

He rapped on the door twice before letting himself in, as a way to announce his presence. Varian hesitated only for a moment before following.

The entrance led right into a cramped kitchen, a polished wooden dining table in the middle of the room flanked by four matching chairs. Two doors on one wall, and the bottom of a staircase on the other side, leading upstairs. The floors were wooden, and the walls were painted a soft yellow. There was a coat rack by the door that Varian leaned his staff against, for lack of a better place to put it.

A woman glanced over from the cast-iron stove, strands of strawberry-blonde hair escaping from a messy bun and hanging in her rounded face. Light brown eyes filled with warmth as her gaze fell on them, a glimmer of curiosity when she noticed Varian.

“Well, hello dear!” She leaned into the kiss Jonathan pressed to her cheek, resting her hand on her round stomach. “Who’s your little friend?”

“Remember how we were looking for someone to stay with us and help out, Alice?” Jonathan introduced Varian with a wave of his hand. “This here’s Varian.”

“Hello, ma’am,” Varian said quietly.

Alice smiled brightly at him. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart! You’re just in time for supper. Bathroom’s through there if you want to take those gloves off and wash up.”

Varian blanched, automatically curling his hands to his chest. His gloves had already been taken from him once before- _metal shackles pressed against his bare skin, hands small and cold and vulnerable-_ but you’ll get them back this time, don’t panic, don’t panic-

“Or, if you’d prefer to leave them on that’s fine, too.” Alice’s smile had become slightly strained, a hint of confusion in her eyes.

Varian swallowed, ducking his head against the scrutiny of both adults. _Get a grip-_ he didn’t want them thinking something was wrong with him. Shaking his head quickly, he turned to the washroom, slipping through the door without a word.

Taking a steadying breath, Varian tugged his gloves off and shoved them into his coat pocket. There. No problem. He turned to the wash basin and grabbed the lever sticking out of the wall, working the pump to fill the basin with water. It was a simple system, likely drawing water up from some underground well. The water was cold, with a metallic scent. A blueprint flashed across his mind’s eye- his design for an automatic water heating system. He quickly pushed it away, burying the emotions it brought up deep in his chest.

Varian made use of the bar of soap that was set out, scrubbing his hands thoroughly, and was mildly surprised at the color the water turned. He hadn’t realized the prison had been so filthy. Drying his hands on a ratty towel, he pulled the stopper out and watched the dirty water drain away.

Okay. No more freak-outs. The last thing Varian wanted was questions- he didn’t know if he would be able to lie his way out of an explanation, and that would likely land him in more even trouble in the long-run. But he had no idea how they’d react if they knew why he was there; he doubted they’d want an exiled criminal living with them.

Forcing any traces of worry from his expression, Varian pushed the door open.

Jonathan and Alice were talking in low tones, but they looked up when Varian entered. That did nothing to reassure him, but he tried not to let it show. Before the potentially awkward silence had a chance to settle, there were footsteps from above, thudding lightly down the stairs.

“Daddy!” A young girl hopped off the last step and ran up to Jonathan, hugging his leg. She looked to be about three years old, her bright orange hair done in pigtails.

“Hey, there’s my little sunshine!” Jonathan lifted the girl up, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Cate, this is Varian. He’s going to be staying with us, and helping your mommy and daddy around the house. Go on, say hello,” he encouraged her.

Suddenly shy, Cate peeked at Varian, half her face hidden in her father’s shoulder. “Hi,” she said softly.

An unidentifiable emotion gripped Varian’s heart. He raised his hand and gave her a little wave. 

“Alright,” Alice clapped her hands together, “I’ve got food that needs to be eaten. Go ahead and have a seat there, Varian, and we’ll get you a plate dished up.”

Varian hesitated. They… wanted him to eat _with_ them? At the dinner table? He’d assumed he’d be taking his meals in his room…

The family settled down to eat, Cate sitting in the chair between her parents. A couple of pillows had been placed on the seat, to help the toddler reach over the top of the table.

The sight was an unexpected punch to the gut. Varian had been a small kid- was still small- and growing up, he’d had a hard time fitting all his dad’s big furniture. It wasn’t so much the case now, but he had vivid memories of Dad setting him down onto a stack of pillows so he could reach the table, their little table set for two-

Varian abruptly realized he was still standing, and quickly took the empty chair. He accepted the plate they put in front of him with a mumbled thank you, his mind spinning at the amount of food on it. He doubted he’d be able to finish it all; he hadn’t been eating well as of late, too concerned with his plans to free Dad, and his stomach had suffered for it, shrinking in size. He didn’t have much of an appetite, either, not after what’d happened.

He hated to waste food, hated the thought that this family was wasting it on him, but he couldn’t eat more than a few bites. As the family talked and ate, Varian picked at his plate, pushing the food around and hoping no one would notice.

In fact, he was so keen on not being noticed that it took him a moment to realize Cate had called his name. He looked up in surprise at the toddler.

“S- sorry, what was that?”

Cate pointed a small finger at something behind him. “What’s it got colors for?” she asked.

Varian glanced over his shoulder; his staff, with its brightly colored vials. “Uh, it’s for seeing in the dark,” he replied quietly.

Cate nodded seriously, a bit of gravy dribbling down her chin. “I’m scared’a the dark, too. That’s why I sleep in my mommy and daddy’s bed when the moon’s gone.”

“I’m…” Varian almost explained that he wasn’t afraid of the dark, but quickly realized there was no point in debating with a three-year-old. “That’s good,” he said simply, lowering his gaze again.

The rest of the meal passed without anyone attempting to make conversation with Varian, which he was grateful for. Varian stood as soon as everyone was done, automatically going to gather up all the dirty dishes. Alice beat him too it, though, giving him an amused smile.

“Oh, nonsense, you just got here,” she said, waving him off. “I’ll take care of them tonight.”

Varian pulled his hands back, flushing. “Sorry, ma’am.”

An unreadable emotion flashed across Alice’s face. “No need to apologize,” she said gently. “Jon, dear, why don’t you get Varian settled in his room?” she suggested, carrying the stacked plates over to the sink.

Jonathan nodded, rising to his feet. “Right this way, son.” He opened up the door beside the washroom, stepping back to let Varian peek inside.

The room was probably even smaller than his cell had been, but without the stone floors and metal bars, it felt cozy instead of claustrophobic. It looked like its former function was a storeroom- there were still a couple of barrels shoved in the corner. A bed took up most of the floorspace, the only other furniture a small bedside table with a built-in cupboard.

“I’m sorry it’s not much,” Jonathan apologized, scratching the back of his head. “I’m going to have to build an add-on in a couple years, when the baby gets too old to share Cate’s room, but for now this is all the room we’ve got.”

Varian dipped his head appreciatively. “It’s fine. Thank you.” More than fine, considering his only alternative would be sleeping outside. But Jonathan didn’t need to know that.

“Good.” Jonathan seemed relieved. “Well, if Cate doesn’t wake you tomorrow with all her running around, I’ll come get you, and after breakfast we’ll head to the shop. You get some rest now.”

“Thank you, sir. Goodnight.”

The door closed, Jonathan’s footsteps fading away and up the stairs.

Varian exhaled shakily. Bending over, he pulled his boots off and placed them at the foot of the bed. He slipped off his satchel, coat, and goggles, tucking them into the bedside cabinet, but not before retrieving his gloves from his coat pocket.

He didn’t always sleep with his gloves on; usually it was a matter of falling asleep at his workbench, too focused on a project to get to bed. But now, the thought of being without them distressed him. He tugged them on without another thought and climbed under the covers, staring up at the wooden ceiling.

Okay. So he’d found himself a place to stay, and a way to get food. Not bad in a day’s work. Now, he just had to make sure he didn’t do anything to screw it up. Don’t do anything to make them suspicious, or give them a reason to kick him out.

No problem.

~*~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Disturbing imagery/dark themes

Chapter Six

Over the next two weeks, Varian fell into a routine of sorts.

He’d wake up early in the morning and help Jonathan set up the shop for the day. Most of his time was spent sweeping the relentless sawdust from the floor while Jonathan worked and met with customers. He didn’t mind it. The repetitive task lulled him into a sort of trance, and he didn’t have to think or feel anything. It was nice in the way that small talk was nice; inconsequential.

Soon enough, though, Jonathan started involving him in other aspects. Cleaning, maintaining, and sharpening the work tools, gathering and preparing the wood, and running to the forge to pick up orders of nails, locks, and hinges.

Varian had been intending to keep a low profile, but there was something about being in a workshop again that made him… forget. Jonathan was working with a cabinet door that kept sticking one day, and the idea popped into Varian’s head without warning.

“A spring hinge might fix that.”

The second the words left Varian’s mouth he’d regretted it, the tips of his ears burning. It was virtually the first time he’d said anything without being spoken to first, certainly the first suggestion he’d made. 

Jonathan had given him a considering look. “Oh? Good idea, I’ll try it out.”

After that, Jonathan started employing Varian in a more hands-on setting. Having him actually work on projects with him, asking his opinion on certain things. He seemed to, bit by bit, piece together that Varian had expertise in engineering.

Varian cursed himself for doing something to be noticed, and all the while he recognized the horrible irony of it; all his life, he’d just wanted to be noticed for his achievements. But only now that being noticed was dangerous was he getting the attention he’d so badly wanted, once upon a time.

At one point, Varian considered feigning ignorance. Pretending not to know anything about engineering. But the thought made him uneasy; he didn’t want to fail the tasks Jonathan set him for fear of angering the man and being kicked out. The one saving grace was that Jonathan never asked Varian where he’d learned such things, or anything about where he’d come from. He’d simply examine Varian’s work with an approving nod and a clap on the back that Varian was slowly learning not to flinch from and a _“good job, son”_ and then it was on to the next thing.

(And Varian would try to ignore how much it affected him.)

What surprised him the most, however, was that Jonathan insisted on paying him. Since he was getting food and board, it wasn’t a complete working wage, but it was more than he’d expected. He’d tried to politely decline, but Jonathan wasn’t hearing it. So Varian kept the coins in his satchel, slightly overwhelmed at the entire prospect.

Whenever things were slow at the shop, Jonathan would send Varian back to the house to help out there. His tasks ranged from dishes to laundry to cleaning up around the place. Once again, nothing that he minded. Alice would keep Cate entertained, the girl not yet old enough to attend the town’s only school, and Varian would check in after completing a chore to be handed the next one.

He made quick work of it all, and in one or two lulls in the day, he found himself wanting for something to keep busy with. It quickly built into him taking on small projects of his own, fixing a squeaky door hinge here or a loose floorboard there. 

Alice noticed. She also commented on it the next time she saw Varian, with a bright smile and a generous thank you. Varian cursed himself again for being noticed. He was just here to do a job and make a living, he wasn’t supposed to… endear himself to anyone. Especially since getting close would just increase his chances of being exposed for the criminal he was.

(But at the same time… the praise was nice.)

The family member Varian least interacted with was Cate. The young girl hadn’t… _warmed up_ to his presence, per say, but she wasn’t shy around him. She seemed to quickly accept him as a fixture in the house, but she didn’t have much need to talk with him.

That suited Varian just fine. He was uncertain around young children, and the last thing he wanted to do was make a mistake with the daughter of his hosts. If he upset her, or gave them reason to think him being around her was a bad idea, he’d be kicked out faster than hydrogen could bond to oxygen.

Varian would have been perfectly happy for his exchanges with Cate to remain few and far between. But, like with so many other things in Varian’s life, fate had different plans.

It was about a week after his arrival. Jonathan had sent Varian back to house for lunch. Cate was occupied with coloring, but had opted to spread out the paper all over the floor instead of settling for the table. Alice had been making friendly conversation, asking about how things were going in the shop, when she suddenly sighed.

“I need to grab something upstairs,” she told Varian. “Could you watch Cate for a moment?”

Varian’s heart jolted. Alone? “Uh-”

“Thanks, sweetheart!” Without waiting for his reaction, Alice vanished up the stairs.

The room was suddenly far too quiet. Varian glanced down at Cate, his pulse quickening. What was he supposed to do with a toddler? What did they even like to do for fun? When Varian was little he’d already taken an interest in alchemy, and in hindsight, that probably wasn’t the safest thing for-

“Hey! Come down here!”

Cate’s voice made Varian jump, the toddler looking up at him impatiently. At a loss for anything else to do, he slid out of his chair and knelt down to Cate’s level.

“… yes?” he asked uncertainly.

Cate pointed. “Why’s your hair blue?”

“Oh.” Absently, Varian reached a hand up to tug at the blue streak in his bangs. “I was born with it.”

“Cool!” Cate looked mildly impressed. “Can I be born with it, too?”

Varian blinked. “Uh, n- no, that’s… not really how it works.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

Cate’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout, and she folded her arms. “No fair!”

Uh oh. “But- but orange is way cooler, anyways,” Varian said quickly, in anticipation of a tantrum. 

Cate squinted at him, suspicious. “Really?”

Varian nodded seriously. “Oh yeah, it’s like the color of the sun,” he said, as if that was something to be impressed by. “A- and pumpkins, and carrots, and wildflowers… very cool.”

“Huh.” Cate seemed to consider it. “That _is_ a good color,” she decided.

Varian breathed a sigh of relief, a little smile tugging at his mouth. “Sure is.” With that little crisis averted, he turned his attention to the papers Cate had spread out before her. “What are you drawing?”

Cate pointed at a scribble of yellow. “This is our house.”

Varian’s heart gave a little skip at that. _Our_ house. He quickly pushed the thought away, though. He wasn’t here to get attached to anyone, he was here so he didn’t starve to death. Besides, what kind of family would want _him_ to be a part of it, anyways?

Varian cleared his throat. “It’s very nice,” he told her.

Cate preened slightly at the compliment. “Thanks.” She grabbed up one of the crayons and offered it to him. “Here.”

Varian took the crayon hesitantly, scanning the papers. “Uh, what do you want me to draw?” he asked. 

Cate shook her head, her short pigtails swishing back and forth. “No, that’s for _you._ To have.”

“Oh,” Varian said, taken aback. “Um, a- are you sure?”

Cate nodded, leaning in conspiratorially and whispering behind her hand. “It’s the best color.”

It was then that Varian noticed the crayon was orange. A real smile spread across his face. “Thank you,” he said softly, oddly touched at the gesture.

“Don’t lose it!” Cate warned him.

“I won’t,” Varian assured her, tucking the crayon into his coat pocket. “There, see?”

“Good.” Cate flashed him a gap-toothed grin and handed him another crayon. “Let’s draw Daddy’s workshop now! But I can’t draw people, so _you_ draw Daddy.”

Varian chuckled. “Alright.”

Alice returned a few minutes later to find them collaborating on a mural of the entire town. She lingered at the top of the stairs, watching them with a fond smile on her face.

(And Varian pretended not to notice.)

~*~

_Varian stood before the court, shackles heavy on his wrists._

_The throne room glistened, nearly blinding him. He was surrounded by faceless figures, their distorted whispers turning to white noise in his ears. The whole room had a golden sheen to it, like he was looking through colored glass. It was familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen it before._

_‘Your most serious crime is enough to warrant execution.’_

_Varian had heard the words before. But this time, it was Dad saying them, Dad looking down at him with a face of stone. It was an oddly peaceful expression on him. The words fit in his mouth, somehow, though Varian was certain they’d come from someone else. He couldn’t remember who._

_Wordlessly, Varian nodded._

_Suddenly, they were outside. There was dirt beneath Varian’s boots, a breeze tugging at his hair. His shackles were gone, his hands bare of their gloves. Before him stood a wooden structure, a long rope dangling from its solitary arm. It swayed slightly in the wind. Gentle. Harmless._

_‘A life for a life,’ Dad said emotionlessly. No hatred, no disdain, no pity. Just quiet judgement._

_‘It should’ve been me,’ Varian agreed, just as calmly. He stepped onto the wooden platform, slipping the rope around his neck._

_Dad pulled the lever, and the ground fell out from beneath Varian’s feet-_

Varian woke up screaming.

He bolted upright in bed, his heart pounding and his scream ringing in his ears. His gloved hands flew to his throat, half expecting to feel coarse rope scratching his skin, choking him- _no, Dad, please no, I’m sorry-_

He curled in on himself, tucking his knees to his chest as a pained cry welled up in his chest. Tears ran down his face, blurring his vision, and they didn’t stop even as he told himself it was just a dream, it wasn’t real, he was alive. None of that mattered because it was right- he should’ve been the one to die, not Dad. It was his fault, his mistake, and it wasn’t fair-

The door opened, and Jonathan rushed into the room, half-dressed and wide-eyed.

“Varian? What happened?”

Alarm shot through Varian. He choked back a sob. “N- nothing, sir,” he managed, wiping at his tears. “I- I’m sor- sorry.”

Jonathan’s brow furrowed. “Hey, hey now, it’s alright,” he said softly, sitting down on the bed beside Varian. “It’s alright, what happened?”

“Bad d- dream,” Varian got out, struggling to stop his crying. “It’s- it’s nothing, I-”

Jonathan pulled him into a hug, and Varian broke.

He clung to Jonathan as he cried, burying his face in the man’s shoulder. He could barely catch his breath from the intensity of it, hot tears streaking down his face. Jonathan’s arms around him were both strange and familiar, and Varian’s head was dizzy at the implications.

It was such a small thing, but… when was the last time someone had embraced him like that?

He couldn’t remember.

Eventually, Varian’s sobs died down. His head was pounding, his eyes burning and his throat hoarse, but there was almost a sense of relief that came with it, in each small tremor that ran through his body. He’d kept so much inside, made himself so numb since his exile that he hadn’t realized how heavy it all was to carry.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” Jonathan ventured finally.

It took Varian a while to gather himself enough to speak. “I… lost my dad a short while ago.” _And it was my fault,_ he wanted to add, but that would lead to questions. Questions Varian didn’t want to answer.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan said, his eyes sad. “We’d thought as much, that you were on your own, but…”

Varian shook his head. “I’m sorry for crying.” He shouldn’t be feeling sorry for himself. He’d been given a second chance. “I d- didn’t mean to wake you…”

“Hey, none of that, now,” Jonathan said gently. “It’s alright.”

A sudden thought occurred to Varian. “Did I w- wake Cate up?” he asked.

“Yes, but she’s fine,” Jonathan assured him. “Just a little spooked. Alice is with her.”

Varian sniffled. He was calmer now, but he found he had no desire to pull away from Jonathan, instead leaning further against the man. The adrenaline of his nightmare had quickly faded, leaving him exhausted.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Jonathan smiled at him. “You’re welcome, son,” he said.

(And maybe just this once, Varian would admit he didn’t mind it.)

~*~

Varian could get used to quiet evenings, he decided.

On the last day of the week, Jonathan would close up shop and give Varian the day off. The concept had confused him. To spend an entire day doing nothing? It hadn’t made sense- at least, not at first. But then Varian had watched the small family spending time together, and he understood.

Maybe he wouldn’t have, a few months ago. But now, he wished he’d spent more time with Dad.

At the moment, Alice was upstairs, taking a much-needed nap after a bout of sickness. Varian sat cross-legged on the floor beside Cate, listening to the toddler introduce her small collection of dolls. Jonathan sat at the table whittling detail into what was going to be a chair leg, because even though he _claimed_ today was his day off he tended to bring work home with him.

The peaceful mood was disrupted by an abrupt knock on the door.

Jonathan rose from his chair, grumbling. “That better not be Alf asking after his rocking chair again. Can’t a man enjoy his day off?”

Whether it was Alf, Varian couldn’t say, but Jonathan seemed to recognize whoever was at the door, because he stepped outside, closing it behind him.

Varian glanced out the window, brows creasing. It was hard to see from this angle, but it looked like there were several men out there, talking to Jonathan. He could just barely hear the deep hum of their voices, but not enough to make anything out. At one point, someone gestured at the window.

Varian got a bad feeling in his stomach.

A small hand tugged at his sleeve. “What’s wrong?” Cate chirped. “Why’re you sad for?”

Varian looked away from the window and gave the toddler a smile. “It’s- it’s probably nothing, Catie,” he said reassuringly.

Cate tilted her head. “Okay. Do you wanna be the mama?” she asked simply, holding out a cloth doll.

“Sure.” Varian took the offered doll.

That was one thing he had found he liked about toddlers. Nothing was ever complicated. Varian didn’t have to second guess everything he said to Cate, didn’t have to try and puzzle out her intentions. The simplicity of it was refreshing; he was tired of mind games. After the accident with the amber, his life had become one big, chaotic chessboard, the schemes and the manipulation all culminating in a devastating checkmate he never could have anticipated.

Back then, Varian had told the queen that part of his actions were for revenge, that he’d still want his revenge after he freed his dad. Things had turned out so differently that he had no clue if that would’ve been the case. But he _did_ know he wanted none of that now. It just wasn’t worth it.

“Hey, the baby’s hungry!” Cate said loudly, waving her smaller doll in Varian’s face.

“Oh, sorry.” Varian shook himself from his thoughts, lifting one of the doll’s little arms in mock-play. “Would baby like some porridge?”

“No!” Cate shrieked. “Baby wants some cake!”

“Well, she can’t have any until she eats her porridge,” Varian said, his lip quirking up despite himself. “So you’re gonna have to-”

The front door opened, and Jonathan stepped back inside. He didn’t stop, walking with a purpose towards where Varian and Cate were sitting, his expression unreadable.

Varian put the doll down and scrambled to his feet, his stomach flipping anxiously. “Is- is something wrong, sir?”

Jonathan’s eyes betrayed nothing, studying Varian carefully. “Apparently, the kingdom of Corona just exiled a dangerous criminal. One they call the Alchemist. They say he’s done… horrible things. Unimaginable things. And they say he’s you.” He tilted his head. “Is it true?”

Varian’s breathing hitched. He knew. Jonathan _knew._ Ice cold panic crawled up into Varian’s chest, and he stood motionless as his mind tore at itself in an attempt to think of a way out. How was he supposed to explain himself?

Varian’s reaction must’ve been all the answer Jonathan needed, because his expression darkened. He took a step forward, deliberately putting himself between Varian and Cate as he pushed her behind him.

Varian stumbled backward, his back hitting the wall. “Please, I never meant to hurt anyone-”

“Get out,” Jonathan snapped.

Varian nearly bolted for the door but managed to control himself, just enough to remember to gather his things first. He moved quickly, only grabbing the things he’d arrived with. Above the roaring in his ears, he could hear Cate asking, _“where’s Varian going, Daddy? Can I go too?”_ and goddamn it, it shouldn’t have hurt that much-

Varian hesitated at the door, his hand gripping the handle, and glanced over his shoulder. “Th- thank you for your hospitality.”

With that, he slipped outside.

Closing the door behind him, Varian turned away, and his heart gave a jolt. There was a small crowd of people standing in front the house. Some he recognized; the familiarity and kindness was gone, replaced by distrust, anger, loathing. Some he didn’t, but the hatred was just the same. Some were armed, with cooking pans and farmer’s tools and even a sword or two. Some weren’t, but their clenched fists spoke of just as much intention.

Swallowing hard, Varian lowered his gaze and stepped into the crowd. They parted for him, the air thick with tension. His footsteps echoed almost deafeningly in the dead silence, and he had to consciously turn his feet away from the center of town; he’d gotten so used to walking to the shop with Jonathan-

Focus. Don’t think about it. Varian kept his head down, ears pricked and aware for any movement towards him, almost shaking from how tense he was. He watched from the corners of his eyes, not daring to meet anyone’s gaze for fear of a challenge, but taking careful notice of his surroundings. 

Everyone he passed on the streets stopped what they were doing to stare, some whispering to each other and some shying back in fear. Others glared, and some even started to follow, joining the initial crowd that was trailing behind him.

The rational part of Varian’s brain forced himself to walk calmly, because he knew that if he ran, the irrational parts of _their_ brains would want to give chase. It didn’t stop him from clutching his staff tightly, as if it could somehow protect him should the mob decide to rush him.

Eventually, someone in the crowd grew bold. “Yeah, keep going, you freak!” they jeered.

More joined in. “Corona doesn’t want you, and we don’t want you here either!”

“Don’t come back!”

“Criminal scum!”

“Freak!”

Varian bit down on his lip until it bled, refusing to let his tears fall. He forced himself to keep moving, not letting his steps falter, keeping his back straight. He kept moving until he crossed the threshold of the town and the road led into forest once again and the last of the straggling followers finally relented and turned back, apparently satisfied he was leaving for good.

Only then did he let himself cry, pushing forward on stumbling feet once more into the dark unknown.

(And he tried to forget about the orange crayon in his coat pocket.)

~*~


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence, injury

Chapter Seven

It was two days before Varian found another town.

Two days of following a road through thicker and thicker wilderness, of snarling branches catching on his clothes and stones in the ground underfoot and glowing eyes watching him from the forest and reminding him painfully of Ruddiger. Two days of eating nothing but the odd few berries he found growing on bushes, of drinking from streams and sleeping in trees.

He almost cried with relief when he saw the town, but he managed to hold it back. He was already dehydrated, after all.

Varian tucked his coat up all the way to his chin, and pulled his hood tightly over his head. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself before walking into the town.

The streets were populated but not overtly so. He got a couple glances but nothing more than that. It was a homely little town, with dirt streets instead of cobblestone, thatched houses instead of wood. A few carts were set up in a wide market square, a light chatter filling the air as people examined the wares. But Varian wasn’t interested in that as much as he was the building with a sign hanging over the door reading, _food._

He hurried towards it, trying to walk casually but probably failing. Inside was a cozy sort of mess hall, warm from a large hearth against one wall and filled with long wooden tables and benches. His attention was caught by a woman standing behind a counter, taking a customer’s order.

Food. Varian quickly stepped into line, his stomach already growling at the scents drifting in the air. After a minute that seemed to stretch on forever, it was his turn to order.

The woman behind the counter looked him up and down, wrinkling her nose. “You some kind of wizard or something?” she asked, nodding at his staff.

“No, ma’am,” Varian murmured, scanning the wooden sign hanging up behind her. “Could I please get a bowl of porridge?”

The woman squinted at him, doubtful.

“I can pay for it,” Varian added quietly, reaching for the coin pouch in his bag. The coins he’d earned working for Jonathan, the ones he’d tried to refuse but Jonathan insisted-

“Hey, you there!”

Varian froze at the harsh, unfamiliar voice. Oh god, please, no-

“I’m talkin’ to you, boy!” A hand roughly grabbed Varian by the shoulder and turned him around. 

Varian found himself facing a thoroughly unpleasant looking man. Angry, too. He gulped. “Yes, sir?”

The man scowled. “I knew it. You’re that criminal, aren’t you? The Alchemist?”

Varian’s heart sank. “Sir, please,” he whispered, “I’m not looking for any trouble. I just want to buy some food.”

“That so?” the man demanded, disbelieving. He caught sight of the coin pouch in Varian’s bag and grabbed it out, his features darkening. “You probably stole this, didn’t you?”

“Hey!” Varian cried, trying in vain to get the pouch back, the man holding it easily out of his reach. “I earned that! Please!”

“Yeah, right,” the man scoffed. “Come on, boys, let’s show this lowlife how we treat criminals around here.”

The next thing Varian knew, two pairs of hands wrapped around his arms, pulling him away from the counter and dragging him toward the door. He fought to get free to no avail, his legs kicking in the air. Someone opened the door, and with a great heave, the men threw Varian outside onto the street.

He landed badly on his foot, a sharp pain flooding up his leg and making him cry out. His staff landed on the ground next to him a moment later, one of the vials shattering in a spray of glass and pink liquid. A bit of it caught Varian across his face- fortunately, non-toxic. He blinked, rubbing the chemical off his face.

“And stay out!”

The door slammed shut.

Shakily, Varian rose to his feet, leaning on his staff. It hurt to put his full weight on his foot- probably a sprain. Hopefully just a sprain. He didn’t have time to check it properly, though. Wary and disapproving eyes watching him from all corners of the square, and he knew he’d worn out his welcome.

Taking a breath, Varian started to painfully make his way down the street, to the road leading out of the town.

Maybe he’d have better luck in the next town.

~*~

Varian backed against the wall of the alley, sneering men closing in all around him.

Fortunately, the next town had been nearby; not even a full day’s walk, which was especially good for his bad leg. Unfortunately, they’d been just as receptive as the last town- which was to say, not at all receptive. Varian hadn’t even made it into a building to attempt to buy food before a small mob had set after him, chasing him into an alley.

“Please, sirs,” he begged, clutching his staff to his chest protectively, “I’m just- I’m just passing through. I- I don’t want any trouble, I’ll go, I promise.”

“Aye.” One of the men cracked his knuckles. “We’ll send you on your way.”

The first punch was to the gut. Varian keeled over, gasping for breath, his staff clattering to the ground. The rest of them joined in, and Varian’s world exploded into pain as he crumpled. The alley wall was behind him, men on every side, no chance of escape. A kick to the head, a punch to the ribs, a foot stomping on his already bad leg.

Varian didn’t resist. He simply curled in on himself and waited for it to be over.

Finally, blessedly, the men seemed satisfied with the damage inflicted. They dispersed casually, with a few parting jeers directed at Varian. One of them lingered and delivered a final kick to Varian’s stomach.

“Let that be a warnin’. Don’t show your face ‘round these parts again, criminal,” he spat.

The man walked off, his footsteps echoed off the alley walls and fading. Varian laid there for a long time, breathing raggedly through his nose, trying to string thoughts together through the pain screaming in his mind.

He’d definitely heard something snap, but the pain was all over and impossible to distinguish. With careful, shaking hands, he went about checking himself, feeling for broken bones. He winced as he touched tender, forming bruises, but he wasn’t finding anything. At least, not until his hand patted against his coat pocket; he felt two distinct shapes where he knew only one to be. Swallowing, he reached inside his pocket and withdrew its contents.

The orange crayon had snapped into two.

Varian’s breathing hitched. He stared at the pieces for a moment, uncomprehending, before his hand curled around the broken halves of the crayon. A sob welled up in his throat.

It was a small thing. A simple thing. But it was one small, simple thing on top of a lot more and altogether it was too much. It was just too much. How much lower could they lay him? He’d already lost and suffered and hurt. When would it be enough? _Why_ wasn’t it enough?

Varian sagged into the ground, his cheek pressed against cold, hard stone. If he just laid there, the temperature might drop enough overnight to kill him- _no, get up, you’ve lasted this long. You don’t get to give up, you don’t have that right._ His life wasn’t his to throw away; it’d been granted to him. To cast it away ungratefully would mean being a bigger failure than he could handle.

Bracing himself, Varian rolled onto his hands and knees. The pain from the movement made him gasp, a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth. His bad leg was in agony, and he could already tell it wouldn’t take his weight. His staff was within reach, however, and none the worse for wear. He snatched it up and slowly rose to his feet, a few tears streaking down his face.

Leaning heavily on his staff, Varian glanced around. The streets were still abandoned, nothing to impede his leaving town. But as clearly as he could see the road leading away, he could see the forest it cut through. The wild, untamed, hidden path of the wilderness.

People… were no longer safe. He knew that now. Trying the same thing over and over again while expecting different results was the definition of insanity, and he knew he had to give this up while he was still sane. Following the road to the next town over would be pointless. He had to make his own way, at least until he was far enough away from Corona that no one would know of the criminal Alchemist.

Varian shoved the broken crayon back into his pocket, tightened his grip on his staff, and started walking.

~*~

It was harder, traveling off the road.

The forest was dense and unforgiving. Rolling, uneven ground, peppered with rocks and tree roots and all sorts of things to trip Varian up. Bushes and branches scratched at him, snagging on his clothes. Animals rustling through the trees and sending him on edge. And the rougher terrain was even more unkind on his bad leg, making his limp that more pronounced.

And yet, it was still better than the alternative. Still better than finally finding a town only to get thrown out. 

Varian didn’t know to what end he was traveling. So he was avoiding human civilization; now what? What kind of life did he expect to make for himself out here? He was hardly an outdoorsman. All he had was his knowledge of the chemical foundations of nature and little snippets of wisdom imparted to him by Dad-

Varian shook his head violently, cutting the thought down before it could take root. He couldn’t get distracted. He’d figure something out. He couldn’t give up now, after everything he’d been through. He had to keep going.

It was hard to keep a sense of direction. Trees and boulders and hills blurred together into one endless landscape. He was starting to lose feeling in his fingers and toes- except for his bad leg, which was burning with infection.

Varian ignored it. He ignored the stiff ache all over his body, too. He ignored the gnawing hunger in his stomach, the dryness of his throat. Humans were far more resilient than most gave credit for. They could push themselves far beyond their normal limits when their life depended on it. And if he repeated that fact to himself over and over again, he might just make it to morning without-

Something caught on his foot, and Varian nearly faceplanted, a startled yelp cutting though the silence of the forest. He managed to brace himself with his staff, hissing painfully through clenched teeth as he examined what he’d tripped on.

Curiously, it was an old wagon wheel, rusted and mostly overgrown with weeds. Varian tilted his head at it, frowning, before looking around warily. There didn’t seem to be any roads nearby, but he spotted an opening in the tree line up ahead. Cautiously, he started to creep toward it. If there was a road, he’d want to go in a different direction, lest he accidentally wander into-

A log cabin sat in a small clearing. It was modest, not much bigger than his storage shed back home, with boarded up windows and moss growing in odd nooks and crannies.

Varian stared at it for a moment, waiting for his vision to stop going in and out, just to make sure it was really there. Bewildered, he looked around, wondering if he’d stumbled into yet another town. But the cabin was the only building visible, the rest of the area filled with dense trees.

Chewing his lip, Varian hesitated. The cabin looked completely abandoned- but what if it wasn’t?

But if it was, he might’ve just found a way to avoid freezing to death.

Making up his mind, Varian carefully approached the door, trying to stay as quiet as possible despite his limp. He came to a stop, swallowed, and tentatively knocked on the door.

“H- hello? Is there anyone in here?”

No response.

Taking a deep breath, Varian grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. It gave with no resistance, seeming to not have a lock, and it creaked as it went. The cabin’s interior was dark, illuminated only by the light Varian let in. And most importantly, it was empty.

It looked like it’d been empty for a long, long time. Dust coated the floor, cobwebs tucked into the corners. The only furniture was a rickety wooden bed with a ratty mattress, straw spilling out of rips in the fabric, and a small tabled pushed up against the wall, with a barrel for a seat. But most important was the stone fireplace on the far wall, coated in old soot.

Fireplace. Fire. Warmth. _Not freezing to death._

Varian stumbled inside, pulling the door closed behind him. The light in the room immediately decreased to almost nothing, but luckily, he had the faintly glowing vials on his staff to light his way. His mind started racing as he examined the fireplace. He was in no condition to go foraging for firewood, but he had a wooden bedframe that looked about ready to fall over at a sneeze.

Painstakingly, Varian pulled the mattress off the frame and set about taking it apart. He was right in guessing it was structurally unsound; he didn’t have to pull hard at all to snap the wooden planks into smaller pieces. He carried them to the fireplace and dumped them inside, easing himself to the floor as he tried to light it with two thin strips of the wood.

Finally, there was a spark, and the wood caught fire. In a few minutes, the fireplace was roaring away, filling the cabin with a warm flickering glow and the soothing sound of crackling wood. Varian breathed a sigh of relief, sinking onto the straw mattress.

A safe, warm place to sleep. On a _mattress,_ not up in a tree or on the ground. This was just what he needed; a good night’s sleep to rest and heal, and then tomorrow he’d be ready to move, go foraging for food. Once he was stronger, he could…

Well, where else could he go after this? _Should_ he go anywhere else? The cabin would keep him protected from the elements and wild animals, but away from people. Maybe… this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Alone.

Varian pulled the broken crayon out of his pocket, studying the two pieces. He’d tried moving on, starting over. People clearly didn’t want him around, despite his best efforts, despite how sorry he was, despite how much he wanted things to be different.

Only now did he understand that he was right; the king sparing his life might’ve been out of misguided mercy, but his true punishment was to live out the rest of his days alone. It was exile in the deepest sense of the word; not just from a single place, but from everywhere, everyone. An exile from the world.

Varian tossed the broken crayon into the fire.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And there we have it! I'm considering this the end of this fic for now, I left it a little open so if I get the inspiration to continue in the future I can write a few more one-shots. But for now, THAT'S ALL FOLKS I hope you enjoyed, **PLEASE don't be shy and leave a comment if you did!** Thanks for reading! - Aqua

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Please don't start any discourse in the comments, as they won't be replied to. Thanks for reading, please let me know if you enjoyed it! - Aqua


End file.
